


This Is What It Means To Protect You

by inverts



Series: At The Bottom Of A Wishing Well Was A Secret That We Dare Not Speak Out Loud [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Deception, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Second Person, Species Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverts/pseuds/inverts
Summary: “Y-You sh-shouldn’t put off s-something like t-telling the t-t-truth,” Alphys says, stuttering her way through the sentence even more than usual. “T-Trust me. I-It doesn’t work. I-If you wait for a g-good opportunity, s-something always c-comes up. T-There’s n-never a time that’s r-right.”--In which some lies start to come undone, but not enough.Or,All these hints are being dropped, and Asriel Dreemurr still can't pick up a clue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'll take you and [run from here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86ZVXfs9cPc)

From what you’d seen when Mettaton had flown you to the MTT Resort, through caverns and over chasms filled with lava, up cliff faces and arches of stalactites and improbable rock structures, you’d feared that the walk back to Alphys’s lab would take ages. Especially with Frisk having to slowly push Mettaton every step of the way—apparently he’d lost the ability to keep himself upright, something wrong with his balance or gyroscope or whatever it was that kept him stable with only one wheel. You wouldn’t know; you’d opted out of the robotics extracurriculars at school, preferring the art and writing programs. 

Your trip is considerably shorter than you expect, though. You exit the resort through the automatic sliding doors, Chara waving and smiling at the monsters who cheer your procession on and happily tell you they can’t wait to see the movie when it’s done. The moment you step outside, the heat tackles you, and even though it’s much easier to deal with in the robe rather than your sweater, you still feel yourself start to slump under the sweltering temperature immediately. You follow Frisk and Mettaton, that wheel still squeaking along over the uneven ground, and it’s not long at all before you’ve all reached the entrance to what looks like a tiny building, isolated at the end of a cliff looming over lava far below. The doors slide open, and the four of you trudge in. You take in the buttons on one wall and the lack of doors leading anywhere else, but it’s not until Chara punches one of the bottom buttons and it lights up that you realize you’re on another elevator. 

Your stomach jumps as the elevator begins its descent, a mechanical hum filling the air. Nobody speaks, and you fiddle with the star brooch of your cape. You keep glancing to Chara, casually holding Mettaton’s arms, and Frisk, supporting the giant robot’s metal frame in both upraised hands. To you, the silence is as heavy as the heat outside, bearing down on your shoulders, but you wonder if it feels the same for Chara and Frisk. From looking at them, you’d think they’re completely fine with helping the killer robot back to the lab so he can be put back together. Maybe you’re the only one feeling any discomfort. 

“Would you calm down?” demands Chara, after you’ve failed to subtly look away from them unnoticed. “I already told you, Mettaton never wanted your soul for real. You can quit acting like he’s going to attack when your back is turned.”

“It’s not that!” you protest quickly. Chara scoffs, clearly not believing you for a moment, but you’re telling the truth. Mostly. “It’s just…”

The elevator comes to a stop, and your stomach does that unpleasant wobbly thing as it settles back down. The doors slide open, and the four of you file out, Chara leading the way. You take the opportunity to try to figure out what you want to say, or if you should even say anything at all.

“Just what?” Frisk prompts. Their voice is quiet, their breaths short with exertion as they push Mettaton. 

You decide you don’t care if you  _ should _ say it. You  _ need _ to say something. “He attacked you with a chainsaw!” you blurt. “You ripped his arms off! And everybody’s just— _okay _ with this!?” 

Frisk pauses. After a moment spent looking at you, they drop their head and keep pushing. You can’t quite bring yourself to follow them, and so you stay standing where you are, watching them trudge on. So there’s no reason or explanation—nothing from Frisk that could justify what’s happened. Everything’s just senselessly awful and violent. Your nose tingles painfully, and your eyelashes stick together, wet when you blink.

Chara, seeing that you’ve stopped moving, loops back. They take your wrist in their free hand and give you a light tug. This time, when you look at them, they offer you a small smile.

You drop your gaze, and you ball up the end of your robe’s voluminous sleeve in one hand and use it to dry your eyes.

“I was quite angry with Mettaton, at first,” Chara tells you, when you start walking again. They adjust his arms in the crook of their elbow for a better grip. “But now that I realize what his actual goal was in all this, it’s clear none of us were ever in any real danger.”

“But—all the traps in the resort,” you protest. Your voice is going high again; you hate it, but when you try to bring it back down, it only cracks. “The fire, and the lasers, and the piranhas—”

Chara snorts. “Do you  _ really _ think something like that could stop us?” They grin wryly. “What kind of monsters would we be, if we couldn’t handle a few traps? That was all to buy time.”

You almost yank your hand back, but Chara’s fingers tighten around your wrist before you can, and their grin widens when you frown. Maybe Chara wasn’t worried about their own wellbeing, confident in their abilities, but you don’t have magic you can shape into a glowing blade. You’d been stuck, helpless, watching. “He tied me to a  _ bomb_,” you grumble, glaring at the ground in lieu of any monsters.

Chara outright laughs at that, and you grit your teeth. “You do realize it was a fake, do you not? It would have never exploded, no matter how long we took to rescue you.”

Shame and embarrassment tighten around your throat, keeping you silent. How were you supposed to know something like that? Chara had shouted your name. Frisk had torn Mettaton to literal pieces. They’d been angry—they’d been  _ worried,  _ and that, more than Mettaton’s proclamations and mustache-twirling, had been what filled your veins with so much ice. And now they expect you to accept that the stakes were never so high as all that? 

“But you  _ did _ beat the clock!” Mettaton chimes in. “Neither of you would have been able to do so on your own. Your human would have been blown to smithereens! It’s really quite impressive, what the two of you can do when you work as a team.”

“Thank you, Mettaton,” Chara growls, their grip on your wrist tightening further. “Your opinion has been noted.”

The conversation comes to an end, then, in part thanks to Chara’s decisive tone, but mostly, you think, because you’ve arrived at what must be Dr. Alphys’s lab. The big, plain, white building stands alone, smooth and manufactured and out of place in the cavern of natural rock formations. Frisk pushes Mettaton on through the sliding doors that open before them, and you and Chara follow.

You’ve taken all of a single step inside when a nasally voice yells out, “Oh my god!” A new monster scrambles toward you, their claws scraping against the smooth tiled floor. “Oh my g- _god_ ,” they repeat, as they stop in front of Mettaton, immediately fussing over the holes where his arms should be attached and the cracks in his screens. 

While this newest monster worries over Mettaton, you take the opportunity to look around. The lab, with its shiny floors and plain, industrial walls, is dominated by an enormous computer set against one wall. Its monitor, equally giant, is displaying video footage of—oh. Chara’s visible on the enormous screen, holding your wrist and smiling flatly, and part of Frisk makes it into the frame as well, but there, dead center, slack-jawed and gaping—it’s you. You quickly shut your mouth. (At least you were right—the costume you’re in looks  _ awesome_. It almost makes up for the rest of you.) 

There are a few other pieces of furniture immediately visible—a desk that you can’t tell the colour of, because its surface is completely covered in papers and also another computer, this one reasonably sized. Next to the desk, you see a refrigerator and a giant bag of dog food, but not much else. For the size of the room, and in strange contrast to the cluttered desk, it’s staggeringly empty. Where are all the science things, the microscopes and machinery and beakers of chemicals? 

“H-How did you even d- _do _ this,” the new monster is stammering, and you bring your attention back to what’s happening in front of you. This monster stands at about your height, though they’re hunched over, and they have yellow, scaled skin. Like some sort of lizard, horned ridges rise along the back of their head, and like every stereotypical scientist, they wear glasses and a white labcoat. Their buckteeth and nasally voice complete the cliché.

“Sorry,” Frisk mumbles, head still bowed.

“Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for art!” Mettaton says, sounding entirely too pleased for someone who can’t move on his own at all and has wires still spitting the occasional spark where his limbs should be.

The yellow monster lets out an enormous sigh. Unlike any of Mettaton’s or Chara’s, it’s complete, genuine exasperation. “I t-told you I n-n-needed to talk to them, and then y-you d-do  _ this!_” They rise from where they'd bent down to examine Mettaton's wheel, and open their mouth to berate everyone some more. But their eyes settle on you, then, and go wide behind their glasses. “Oh my god,” they choke, their clawed hands coming up to cover their mouth. “You’re here.” 

Of course you are. Instead of giving voice to your tired, sarcastic thoughts, you shrug and offer the barest hint of a grin. It's apparently enough for the yellow monster, whose little hands start flapping frantically. 

“I-I was supposed to get everything ready! I h-haven't cleaned up, or changed… oh my god…” They cover their eyes with their hands, groaning. “This is s-such a m-m-m-mess….”

“Who cares!” comes a voice you know. You jerk your head up to see Undyne striding over. “That brat’s not worth going to the extra effort.” Your shoulders hunch defensively. To your side, you can see Chara’s grin transform from flat and annoyed to full and genuine. “Anyway, he’s not gonna be around for much longer.”

The yellow monster lifts their head, though they continue fidgeting, wringing their hands as they look up to Undyne. “T-That’s not,” they stammer, and their glance darts back to you. Are they sweating? Do reptiles sweat? “U-Um! I’m D-Dr. Alphys. You must be A-Asriel, right?”

You nod, putting on a friendly, albeit small, smile. You can’t manage more than a quiet, “Howdy,” but Dr. Alphys’s enthusiasm as they shake your hand more than makes up for your own lackluster greeting. Considering the camera feed trained on you, and that this monster was examining Mettaton without hesitation despite their nervous stammering, you probably should have figured out who they were before they introduced themself. You try to remember if anyone’s referred to Dr. Alphys as he or she—you’re pretty sure you remember Undyne using ‘she,’ but so much has happened since then, you’re not confident enough to risk it. 

“A-Anyway, um, please make yourself… at, at home...” Dr. Alphys trails off, apparently having realized there's nowhere for you to sit. “Um!” they stammer, “W-Would! Would you like something to eat? I-I've got, um, ramen…”

“That's all right,” you start to decline, at the same time Mettaton decides to plow into the conversation. “Alphys, darling! Perhaps you can fawn over the human  _ after _ fixing my body?”

The little yellow monster startles, and their cheeks puff a little when they frown up at Mettaton. But they look at you, and Chara next to you, and their shoulders sag as they seem to deflate.

“C-Come on, then,” they say, turning and giving a tiny wave for you all to follow. “Bring him o-over here.”

You're led past the desk and fridge, and then past a closed door with what at first looks like a bathroom sign, but on closer inspection the little silhouette resolves itself into the shape of a dinosaur. You guess that, actually, it still could be a bathroom sign—it does kind of look like Dr. Alphys. The little lizards room. You swallow down inappropriate laughter. Beyond the closed door is a stairway, though rather than actual stairs, a conveyor belt hums along. More of a ramp, then. Dr. Alphys takes the lead, and Frisk pushes Mettaton up next. Chara has the two of you follow, and Undyne steps behind you, the narrow walkway not quite permitting anyone to stand next to each other.

The conveyor belt deposits you in a room that looks both more and less like a lab. Densely packed bookshelves line the walls, and on the far side of the room, you see a messy work table with tools and blueprints scattered on and around it. It's there, past the enormous framed anime poster on one wall, that Dr. Alphys leads Frisk, shoving papers aside to clear a space for them to heft the robot's enormous metal frame onto the table. Frisk strains under the robot’s weight, and the metal frame scrapes against the edge of the table as they push Mettaton up onto the flat surface. 

Undyne takes Mettaton’s arms from Chara, setting them to the side, and Dr. Alphys pulls a toolbox out from under the table, opening it up and rifling through it. Out come pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers, a power drill, and other tools you couldn’t begin to name. They straighten up, adjust their glasses, and let out another sigh as they regard Mettaton.

“Y-You’re going to have to be in sleep mode for this,” they tell the robot. 

“I suppose, if I must,” he says, and Dr. Alphys shakes their head, reaching for some switch you can’t see. There's a click, and Mettaton’s glowing monitors darken. 

Dr. Alphys looks from the robot to the rest of you. “This is going t-to t-take a while,” they mumble. They bite at their lower lip, frowning. “W-Will you…. Will you wait here so I can t-talk to you when I’m, uh, d-done?”

Chara huffs, but then they nod. “Try not to make us wait too long,” they say, but their words lack the sharp edge you know them capable of. “We’ll be downstairs.” Frisk, too, nods, and moves to join you as Chara leads you to another conveyor belt, this one headed back down. 

“Hey.” Undyne’s hard voice stops all three of you. “You did this, didn’t you?” she demands of Frisk. They nod—not cowed or meek, but the motion is short, and they don’t volunteer any excuse or explanation beyond the simple silent answer. “Then you stay up here to help Alphys fix it,” she says.

Frisk’s shoulders stiffen, but their face doesn’t change at all. As if they’d made some kind of protest out loud, Undyne continues, “It’s real easy to get mad and break things, isn’t it? Maybe you oughta learn just how long it takes to fix something instead, so you think twice next time you wanna throw a tantrum.”

In a mild voice devoid of venom, Frisk comments, “Funny to hear that from you.” They walk back over to Dr. Alphys and Mettaton as though they haven’t said anything, and Undyne glares at them, her eye wide and her teeth bared. 

“M-Maybe!” Dr. Alphys stammers, clawed hands fidgeting with a screwdriver and trembling so much they nearly drop the tool. “Maybe y-you all can w-wait downstairs! While! Frisk and I w-work up here!”

Undyne makes a sort of, ‘tch,’ noise, frowning again at Frisk, who steadfastly ignores her. She turns on her heel and marches to the conveyor belt leading downstairs, past you and Chara. You’d rather stay up here as well, away from Undyne’s temper, but Chara tugs you along and you stumble after them. Frisk doesn’t look at any of you as you leave.

As the conveyor belt takes you back to the first floor, you can hear Dr. Alphys stutter, “A-Anyway, Frisk, I w-wanted to t-talk to you a…” Whatever the doctor wanted to bring up with Frisk, their mumbling quickly becomes too quiet for you to make out as you descend. 

Down on the first floor, Undyne is standing with her arms crossed, one foot tapping. “I hate waiting,” she grumbles, as you and Chara reach the end of the conveyor belt and step onto the tiled floor. “At least while you guys were dealing with Mettaton, Alphys had the camera feed playing!”

Your eyebrows draw together as you frown up at her. “You mean, that whole time,” you pause, press your lips together, and then ask, “you were just watching Chara and Frisk from here?”

She looks down at you, teeth bared, either still annoyed at Frisk, or reminded of how much of an irritation your presence is. “Yeah?” she answers, a challenge in the lift of her voice. 

“Why didn’t you follow them?” you demand, stepping forward. Chara’s grip on your wrist pulls your arm back, as you advance and they stay where they are. You aren't deterred, glaring up at Undyne. “What if they’d gotten hurt?”

“What am I, their nanny?” she scoffs. “Do I look like a kindergarden teacher to you?”

Your hands fist and your shoulders hunch. Your eyes are wet; that’s nothing new. Your voice rises as you reply, “If you’re a royal guard, you should be guarding them!” Not sitting back and watching to see which of the two comes out on top, you think, but don't say. Not acting like it’s no big deal if they’re upset, or angry, or sad.

“Listen, human,” she says, uncrossing her arms to put her hands on her hips. She leans down, still above your eye level, but close enough for you to see the condescending curve of her grin, the half-lidded impatience in her eye. “Chara and Frisk are  _ boss monsters. _ They’re future monarchs. One of them is going to lead us to the surface one day. They don’t need someone to hold their hand through every little thing.”

You shrink back from her, biting the inside of your cheek. Maybe being human means you don’t get it. Maybe you’re making assumptions about someone else’s culture based on your own. Maybe—actually, most assuredly—you’re being rude by talking about Chara when they’re right next to you, holding onto your wrist. But you look over your shoulder at them, and you see their huge red eyes and their wide smile, and you feel their paw pads squeeze your wrist. You remember Frisk’s voice as they begged their mom to calm down, and you remember the pitch of Chara’s shouts as they demanded why Frisk lied to them, why Frisk didn’t acknowledge them. 

They’re the same height as you, and they love hot chocolate, and they hate to lose. They’re impatient and sarcastic, and they’ve protected and guided you. They’re scary when they’re mad, and they don’t have parents anymore.

Your dad’s told you that not all adults are right all the time, and that even if it means questioning him and mom, it’s good for you to voice your doubts. Even if it’s scary, or it might turn out that you still won’t get your way. You don’t have to accept things just because it’s a grown-up who’s said them, and it’s okay to push for explanations or more reasons. 

You think there’s a difference, between your dad telling you that you can question his decisions or tell him what you think would be a better option, and Chara and Frisk being left entirely to their own devices. Even when you don’t agree with Mom and Dad, even when you wish they’d just let you have your way—they’re still there for you, when you’re sad or when you don’t know what to do.

You turn back to Undyne, and you scrunch up your nose and grit your teeth and muster your courage. “Just… just because they’re special monsters, that doesn’t mean they’re not kids, too! Maybe they’re gonna be rulers or whatever in the future, but right now—”

“Asriel,” Chara cuts you off. Your mouth snaps shut as you look at them. “Your consideration is kind, but unnecessary. Undyne is correct. If I am to inherit the throne, I cannot be pampered. My age is irrelevant.”

“But,” you start, and they shake their head. Their other hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and their smile falls. Despite that it’s smaller now, the expression seems more genuine; there’s something grateful in the slant of their eyebrows. 

“Thank you,” they say, “but, you do not need to worry.”

You look at them for a long moment, but whatever it is you’re searching for in their face, you don’t find it, not in the gleam of their eyes or the edge of their smile or their fangs over their lip. Slowly your shoulders sag, and you bow your head so you’re staring at your yellow sneakers where they peek out from the dark hem of your robe. “Okay,” you whisper. 

It’s not okay, but it’s not your place to argue. You don’t belong here. You’re leaving as soon as Dr. Alphys is done with fixing Mettaton and can talk to Frisk and Chara. 

It’s not your problem.

“If we’re done here,” Undyne says, the barely contained ire in her voice giving the words a serrated edge, “I’m going to check in with Royal Guards 01 and 02. Call me when Alphys is done talking to you.”

For all that she’s clearly annoyed with you, she waits for Chara to nod before she stomps out of the lab. 

The two of you stand where you are after the automatic door slides shut behind her. The hum of the giant computer to your side fills the room, and from upstairs, you hear metallic bangs and the crackle of something burning. Chara says nothing, nor are they looking at you. Should you apologize to them? 

You shift your feet. Maybe the two of you can at least sit down while you wait. 

You open your mouth, and get as far as, “Sor—” before they turn a bright and cheery smile on you and cut you off.

“Shall we see what Dr. Alphys and Frisk are talking about?” they practically chirp, beaming with what even you can tell is false enthusiasm. 

You know that the right thing to do is to say no. Beyond the fact that it’s wrong to invade Frisk’s privacy, the last time you and Chara decided to snoop around, things went very poorly. You shove your concerns aside. Chara’s made it clear enough that they don’t need you worrying. “Sure,” you agree. Your voice is quiet and listless; it seems you spent all your energy on confronting Undyne.

Chara lets go of your wrist, cupping their hands together in front of them. Sparks shimmer into existence above their palms and curled fingers, small embers hovering like glowing fireflies, before they coalesce into a pair of golden flowers. For all that you’ve seen their magic several times now, you can’t help but stare, enthralled. This is the kind of thing that you’d expect from video games or movies, and you get to see it happen right in front of you. The flower petals curve like a bowl, or a satellite dish, and Chara spreads their hands, one golden bloom hovering above each palm. With a gentle motion, they send one of the little flowers bobbing slowly through the air, back up the way you came. It floats over the conveyor belt, making its wobbly and meandering way up to the second floor. With their now empty hand, Chara beckons you closer, focused on the remaining flower that hovers just at their fingertips. 

It’s like someone is slowly turning up the volume on the radio, as you start to hear Frisk and Dr. Alphys’s voices transmitted through the flowers. You bend closer to hear them better. 

“Even if you don’t tell them th-the t-truth,” Dr. Alphys is saying, and it’s clear you’ve missed much of their conversation, while you and Undyne butted heads. “You c-can’t keep doing this. Y-You’re n… you’re not eating well, or taking c-care of yourself—”

“It’s fine,” Frisk cuts the doctor off. “‘M fine. Got clothes. Can buy enough food for mom. My allowance; my decision.”

Chara narrows their eyes in consideration at the flower playing Frisk’s voice. Dr. Alphys, too, doesn’t sound satisfied with this response. “F-Frisk,” they start, only for Frisk to interrupt a second time.

“Let me have this.” You can barely hear Frisk’s whispered plea. “Know it’s wrong. Greedy. Know giving money to other families can’t make up for keeping their loved ones away.” There’s a crackle and a whirring noise, loud enough to be heard both through the flower and down the conveyor belt walkway. It dies down, and Frisk continues. “Tell everyone, once I get the barrier down. Just until then. Please.”

“Y-You sh-shouldn’t put off s-something like t-telling the t-t-truth,” Alphys says, stuttering their way through the sentence even more than usual. “T-Trust me. I-It doesn’t work. I-If you wait for a g-good opportunity, s-something always c-comes up. T-There’s n-never a time that’s r-right.”

Frisk doesn’t reply. You stare at the silent flower in Chara’s hands, wondering if their magic has stopped working. Finally, the two of you hear Dr. Alphys request, “H-Hold that here while I… um…. Yeah!” There’s another banging noise and more crackling. You straighten up, looking at Chara. Their eyes are narrowed and their eyebrows drawn in. They appear pensive, and not nearly as confused as you feel. 

They raise their head and meet your gaze. At the same time, their hand closes over the flower. Little bursts of tiny lights shoot out from between their fingers, then fade to nothing as they flutter down toward the floor. You can only assume that the second flower, eavesdropping on Frisk and Alphys, has also fallen to so many insubstantial embers.

“What was—”

“Let’s go,” Chara says, abruptly plowing over your question. “We don’t have to wait around for them. It’s only a couple of elevator rides to the barrier. I’ll take you now.”

There’s a stiff smile on their face. Their eyes are big and glassy. 

Guilt rises up in your throat. “It’s okay,” you mumble, unable to continue meeting their blank red stare. “I’ll wait. I don’t want to leave Frisk behind.”

Chara’s hand closes once more around your wrist. “Don’t you want to get home?” they ask. “Frisk will be fine here. I’ll tell them you said goodbye.”

You shake your head. It seems hypocritical, now, after spying on them, but…. “Frisk is my friend,” you say. “It’d be mean to leave without them.”

Chara doesn’t say anything, and you raise your eyes to theirs once more. Their smile is bigger than you’ve ever seen it. Their eyes are so large, you can see the white completely surrounding their red irises. As you look at them, they start to laugh. It’s not a mirthful sound; high pitched and strained, it sounds painful, and you wince.

“Frisk is—” they wheeze between giggles. “Frisk is no more your friend than I am!” You flinch, trying to draw your hand back, but their grip tightens. “Any kindness from them is a lie,” Chara sneers, laughter abruptly cut off. “They don’t care about anything or anyone.”

“That’s not true!” you yell. Your mind floods with evidence—Frisk hugging you in the marsh, standing up to Undyne for you, saving you from Mettaton—but counter to this, the cold slash of Chara’s words cuts between your thoughts. You’re unable to voice a single protest, your mind fixed on their harsh, hysterical laughter. ‘No more your friend than I am!’ Is that how Chara really feels about you?

“Just wait,” Chara snarls, another burst of giggles escaping them, the sounds sharp and quick. “You’ll see I’m right.”

Does it not mean anything to them? Leading you home, sharing hot chocolate with you, cowering from Frisk’s grotesque parent together, sneaking past Mettaton to cut you free from the bomb—none of that matters to them? If the two of you aren’t friends, then why—why would they spend so much time helping you? Why would they bother with any of that?

Why bother with you at all? 

You wipe at your cheeks with the loose sleeve of your free arm, sniffling into the fabric. Your shoulders are shaking; you keep your hand up to hide your face, even though there’s no way Chara doesn’t know what’s happening. Your entire face hurts, not just your nose, but the muscles in your chin and your cheeks ache from strain. Despite the pain, you can’t make yourself stop; your eyes scrunch up and tears keep falling. Your sleeve is useless to dry your eyes now, but you don’t take your hand away. You gulp down a sob, trying to at least keep quiet, and you can hear Chara’s claws click on the tiled floor as they shift their weight.

“A-Are you two all right down there?” Alphys’s voice calls down. You freeze, breath catching mid-sniffle.

“We’re fine,” Chara calls back up. “Asriel’s just being a crybaby.”

A heaving sob tumbles out of you. Weakly, you try again to tug your arm away; once more, Chara does not release their grip. 

“That, um… that doesn’t sound okay?” Alphys pauses. “Should we come down?”

“No!” you yell, muffled through your sleeve. Bad enough to start crying in front of Chara over something so stupid as them saying you’re not friends. It shouldn’t upset you this much. You’re used to nobody wanting to be your friend; you shouldn’t have assumed otherwise. For Frisk to see you like this, too… “We’re fine!” you add, voice thick as you try to hold back more tears.

“I-If you say so,” you hear Alphys say, quieter. Then, “Frisk and I are, um, about halfway done? T-There’s, uh, there’s a-anime on the computer, i-if you wanna watch! If, um! If you’re bored!”

“Thank you,” Chara calls up. “We’ll see if there’s anything good!” 

You think that you hear Alphys sputter, but then the noises of clanks and clatters and metallic bangs resume. 

“Are you done, now?” Chara asks. You shake your head, your shoulders still trembling. They sigh, and you try to bring your sniffles to a stop. As always, it’s a useless effort; you only cry harder at the knowledge that they’re annoyed with you. You’re at least able to keep yourself from sobbing so loudly that Alphys and Frisk to hear you again, but your tears keep coming, hot down your cheeks. 

There’s a tug on your arm; with small, shuffling steps, you follow Chara’s pull. You hear their claws clicking on a keyboard, and you lift your head the two inches to see over your wrist. They’re clicking through files on Alphys’s computer. Your vision’s too blurry to make out the titles, but you can hear Chara murmur, “Seen it, seen it, looks terrible,” as they go through the explorer windows. 

“I don’t… really want to watch anime,” you mumble, swallowing thickly. You twist your head to wipe your face on your upper arm, the end of your sleeve now completely soaked and useless to you. Your nose stings painfully when you press your face against the fabric, and you wince. If you weren’t trying to stop crying, you’d probably wonder at the fact that Dr. Alphys apparently has a computer full of anime; is it the same as the stupid stuff you’ve seen kids watching at school? Is it monster anime? But if it’s monster-made, then why anime, and not just cartoons?

“Well I’m not sitting around watching you cry while we wait for your  _ friend _ to be done,” Chara growls. You sniff, and they roll their eyes. “Fine,” they grumble. “We’ll do… something else.”

They step away from the computer, pulling you along with them, and they look around the empty lab. Their eyes land on the closed door with the dinosaur symbol on it at the same time yours do; not asking your opinion, they lead the two of you over to it and, without a word, open the door. Instead of the expected bathroom, what greets you is another elevator. 

Chara walks right in, and you shuffle after them. They bend to peer at the buttons, muttering to themself. “This doesn’t go upstairs,” they say, voice low as they reach to tap at the panel. “Where does this lead?”

“Maybe we could ask Dr. Alphys,” you mumble, futilely wiping your face again. You’re just going to have to let your cheeks air dry on their own. “Last time we went exploring someone’s house, it didn’t…”

Chara presses their thumb into the button before you can finish your sentence. It lights up, and the door behind you slides shut. They stand up, grinning at you, as the elevator lurches to life. “This is Dr. Alphys,” they say, waving their free hand dismissively. “Her biggest secrets are that she’s an anime obsessed nerd with a crush on Undyne that’s bigger than Mettaton’s ego. We’ve probably just found the way to her super nerd stash.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot, not convinced. But you’re the one who didn’t want to watch anime. You’ll look like a real idiot if you insist on going back now.

(At least Chara’s offhand remark has finally let you know what pronouns you can use for Dr. Alphys.)

The elevator doesn’t take long at all to come to a stop. It opens out into a dark room, and Chara steps out, fumbling at the wall for a light switch. You follow, sticking close to them; the elevator slides shut behind you the moment you step clear of the door, and what little light it was shedding into the dark room disappears. Chara grumbles some unintelligible curse, and golden fire flares to life over their palm. It splits into two little tongues of flame, one of which floats over to you, hovering at the ready about a foot in front of your chest. “You’d think she’d put a light switch close by the entrance,” they mutter. 

The firelight flickers over walls with cracks and water stains; the floor tiles look dirty, with rust or mold or something else darkening their corners. There’s no other light source but Chara’s magic. You’re pretty sure this is the set-up to a lot of horror movies, and even if you’re about to feel like the biggest weenie in Mt. Ebott, you decide that having Chara think you’re a crybaby is preferable to being eaten alive by some terrible monster bursting out of the dark. “I think we should go back upstairs,” you say, your voice quiet and weak. 

Predictably, Chara ignores you, pressing forward into the room. It’s completely empty, nothing to be seen but a hallway leading off to your left. Chara makes their way toward that dark corridor immediately, and you’re dragged behind them. You think about planting your feet, about pulling your hand free. You wind up doing neither of those things, as you stumble along with them.

The light from their fire catches on monitors mounted on the hallway walls, reflecting on the dark, smooth screens. As you approach, they flicker to life, displaying green text on a black backdrop, like some ancient operating system from a decades old movie. Chara, who already walks up on their toes normally, strains up to read it.

“A lab report?” they ask. You look from side to side, searching for a power switch or some explanation as to why the screen turned on, but the hallway is still empty as far as the light reaches. A shiver runs down your spine, and you shake your head to dispel the tense feeling at the back of your neck, before you join Chara in examining the glowing text. Like they said, it seems to be some kind of report, the beginnings of some experiment archived for future reading.

> Lab report 01  
>  It’s time to form and test a new hypothesis. We must find the way to break the curse… I fear we don’t have much longer.   
>  But what else can we do? We’ve tried so much already… I can only hope these new lab reports do not end in documenting yet another failure.

Under the dread that pools densely in your gut, there’s a budding curiosity. It’s none of your business, and so you haven’t asked for a direct explanation, but if there are more of these lab reports, maybe you can find out just what this curse actually  _ is_. This time, when Chara tugs you with them, your steps are quick as you, too, rush to read the next monitor.

> Lab report 02  
>  Another human has fallen. It seems that other than myself and the king and queen, only Gerson, the former captain of the guard, knows how many that makes. He agrees with the decision the king and queen have made, as do I… It is regrettable, but ultimately for the best.  
> 

The two of you look at each other, and Chara voices your thoughts: “What?”

“What decision?” you ask. Chara shakes their head, brow furrowed, and looks toward the next monitor. This time, the two of you are slow to approach it.

> Lab report 03  
>  What is it that makes human souls so much stronger than our own? What is it that allows them to persist after death? Could it be the same power that sustains a boss monster’s soul for those few moments after they die?  
> 

Your soul, again… 

There’s one more monitor before the hallway turns. You twist your wrist in Chara’s grip, and they loosen their fingers; when you put your hand in theirs, they slide their fingers between yours and give you a reassuring squeeze. You approach the fourth monitor together.

> Lab report 04  
>  I’ve done it. I’ve identified what gives the human souls the strength to persist after death. The will to keep living…. The resolve to change fate. Let’s call this power… “Determination”  
> 

Your rib cage feels cold under your skin, as though your heart and lungs have dissolved into so much freezing mist. You take a shuddering breath, and feel Chara’s eyes on you. 

You know what they’re going to say before you open your mouth, but that doesn’t stop you. Your voice is small, as you speak facing the monitor, not looking at Chara. “We should go back.”

“No,” they say. But when they pull you along, it’s slowly; you feel like you could withdraw your hand from theirs if you wanted. The two of you follow the hallway around the corner, Chara’s gold flames lighting the way. There’s no sound but what the two of you make as you walk, the tap of their claws on tile and the squeak of your sneakers and the swish of your cape.

The hall ends shortly at a room with a vending machine and potted plants. Directly before you is a closed door, and to either side, hallways branch off. Everything is dusty, and there’s a sort of wet, moldy smell in the air.

To the right of the closed door, another monitor is mounted on the wall. As the two of you approach, it lights up, that low frequency electronic hum filling the stale air. 

> Lab report 06  
>  Even if this experiment succeeds, will it be worth it? Who knows when we’ll be able to get another soul…   
>  But this is the king and queen’s will.

“It skipped the fifth one,” you mumble, your eyes following the words. Another soul? Does that mean...

Chara makes an annoyed noise. “Trust Alphys to have no sense of organization,” they mutter under their breath. 

“Did Dr. Alphys write these?” you ask. You guess it’s the logical conclusion. You’re in the basement of her lab, after all. The lab reports don’t really sound like Dr. Alphys to you, but it’s not like you know her very well. 

“Who else could have?” Chara’s reply is absent, as they look around the room. They try to open the door between the vending machine and the monitor, but it doesn’t budge, locked or jammed. 

“What kind of experiment do you think she means?” You hug yourself with your free hand, rubbing at your upper arm. The lower level of the lab is much cooler than outside; you’re starting to miss your sweater. 

“How should I know?” they ask, turning to frown at you. “I’ve never been down here either, you know. I didn’t even know there  _ was _ a basement.”

You look to the side, still rubbing your arm. “Sorry,” you whisper. 

Chara doesn’t respond. When you risk a glance at them again, they’re staring at the monitor, biting their lip. They notice your gaze on them, then, and quickly pull up a smile. “Which way next?” they ask, cheery.

“Um.” Well, you don’t think they’ll accept ‘back upstairs’ as an answer. “Left?”

Past the vending machine, the next hall contains another monitor. Chara approaches it boldly, as though the screen is something that can be intimidated by a show of bravery. It flickers on, same as the others, when you get close enough. Despite your trepidation, you join them in reading it.

> Lab report 16  
>  The DT injections don’t seem to be having any effect on the monsters who have fallen down. I guess my hypothesis was wrong...

“Maybe we should have gone the other way,” you say, noting just how many reports you’ve missed by choosing this direction. But Chara only shrugs, and the two of you continue the way you’re going.

The light from Chara’s fires spills into another room, washing over reclining chairs that remind you of visiting a dentist. There’s the flicker of a metallic shine in the corner, and you jump, but as you advance, it’s revealed to be nothing more than a trio of sinks. Chara snickers at you, and you huff. 

There’s another door by the sinks, but it opens into a room that’s empty save something that looks kind of like a fuse box. Chara fusses at it for a moment, but flipping the switch doesn’t seem to turn on any lights, and the two of you turn back the way you came. 

Back in the previous room, you tug Chara’s hand; there’s a monitor by the reclining chairs that the two of you hadn’t noticed on your way in. You both move quickly toward it, eyes traveling over the text the very instant it appears. There are only two lines to take in.

> Lab report 17  
>  Frisk’s mother fell down today. 

Chara lets out a long, loud exhale. “I knew it,” they whisper. “I knew they were lying.”

“What,” you start to ask, even though you think you’ve figured it out by now. “What does ‘falling down’ mean?”

“It means you’re dying,” is Chara’s clipped reply. They turn, and they lead you back through the hall without saying anything else. 

Returning to the room with the vending machines, they try to open the locked door again as you pass by; neither of you are surprised when it stubbornly refuses to budge. The final exit from the room has another closed door, but this one opens easily. Yet another hallway opens up before you, with another sharp turn. Rounding this next corner, you find more monitors lighting up against the wall. Chara marches forward once more; you linger, at least as much as you can, still holding their hand. 

You still read the glowing text, of course.

> Lab report 08  
>  We started speaking with possible surrogate parents today. After hearing the risks, some of them withdrew. The ones who stayed…  
>  They said things like, “I’ll fall down before the barrier is broken anyway, so it doesn’t bother me.”   
>  Or, “If this is what it takes to finally destroy humanity, I’ll make any sacrifice.”  
>  I’m not so sure that these are the kind of monsters we want to raise our hopes and dreams, but…. We aren’t exactly spoiled for choice. 

Chara goes stiff next to you, their fingers tightening around your own. They yank you to the next monitor, their breath loud in the empty hall. 

> Lab Report 13  
>  I need to talk with Frisk and Chara's parents. This is wrong… this isn't how they're supposed to grow up.   
>  But everyone thinks that this is what the prophecy means… 

You finish reading, and look to Chara. They’re still staring up at the glowing screen, their pale fur highlighted in green, the reflected light gleaming against their dark irises. Their mouth pulls into a long smile, and their shoulders start to shake. The noise that leaves their mouth—’laughter’ is the wrong word for the rasping, ragged sounds. 

“What is this?” they ask, gasping for breath. You reach forward with your free hand, even as they spin away from you so that you can’t see their face. Their fingers are limp in your own, and you can feel the trembles that quake down their arm. “What… how I was supposed to grow up? What does that even  _ mean_?” They bark out more of that pained, hoarse laughter, hunching forward, their knees buckling under their weight. 

“Chara,” you say, helpless. At the end of the hallway, you can see that the next room looks like some kind of dorm, maybe, filled with beds; you put your free hand on Chara’s shoulder and try to steer them that direction. They shuffle forward, letting you guide them, and they sit heavily in the bed when you reach it. The mattress squeaks, and dust flies up from the force of Chara’s landing.

“What,” they’re still asking, between those raw giggles that sound scraped out of their lungs, “what else could the prophecy mean? Is this some kind of joke?” With their free hand, they dig their claws into the bedding, twisting the sheets. 

“Chara,” you try again, but you still don’t know what to say to fix this. Their breaths are loud and shallow; without warning, they grab the pillow from the bed and fling it at the wall. It lands with a disappointingly soft sound, and Chara hunches forward, their ears dangling down, their bangs obstructing your view of their eyes. 

They’re still hanging on to your hand, and so you stand there, shifting your weight from foot to foot, as they shudder in front of you. Their body jerks with laughter intermittently; their toes curl, dragging their claws over the tile. 

In your peripheral vision, something moves, and you lift your head, thinking it only the flickering firelight catching on a monitor again. Instead, you’re treated to the sight of an amorphous, pale shape approaching. You shriek, tighten your grip on Chara’s hand, and stumble backward; your heel catches on the hem of your robe and you topple down, hitting the floor hard on your rear. Chara raises their head, and their giggles come to an abrupt stop, as they go stiff. 

It’s not the thing Frisk called mom, but the creature shuffles toward you in the same manner, its body slopping like thick, gooping wet clay, or—you let out a hysterical yelp at the thought—like creamy mashed potatoes. It advances on you, silent but for the squelching noises as it moves. There’s nothing that you can identify as a face, or even limbs; it’s formless as silly putty.

You try to scramble to your feet, but with only one hand, and wearing clothing you’re not at all used to, your robe and cape trip you up again. Chara doesn’t try to pull you up, or even move, for that matter, staring frozen at the pale mass that’s still gaining ground toward you. “Chara!” you hiss, managing to at least get to your knees, but when you tug at their hand, they don’t move so much as an inch. “Chara, come on!” 

The creature reaches the edge of the bed Chara’s seated on, and a high-pitched whine rises in your throat. Chara’s still staring at it, motionless. It rises up, gathering its shifting mass—its flesh?—until it stands taller than either of you. Even having attained such a height, pieces of it drip down like a melting candle, as it looms above you. You yank at your hand, but Chara’s grip is unyielding as steel, and you’re helpless to do anything but watch as the creature towers over you.

From within its wet, slopping form, the pillow Chara had thrown emerges. The monster lowers the pillow onto the bed, and it pauses for a moment, as if waiting for something, or regarding you. Then it sinks back down, burbling as it goes. It shuffles back the way it came, and in what seems like much less time than it took to approach you, it’s vanished into the dark corners of the room. 

Chara looks down at the pillow. They pat it, and it fluffs just like you’d expect a pillow to. They turn their head in the direction the creature retreated, and they murmur, “So, there are more of them.”

“I’d be happy never seeing another one,” you say, a voiceless whisper. Naturally, you’re able to easily make your way to your feet now that the urgency is gone. You try to stop shaking as you brush off the front of your robe; your hands refuse to cooperate. At least Chara doesn’t comment on it, though they must feel your fingers trembling in their hand.

“Alphys knows what they are,” Chara says, also rising to stand. “She knew about the one that lives with Frisk, and she knows about this one.” Their eyes are narrowed. 

Most of what you heard of Alphys and Frisk’s conversation still doesn’t make sense to you, but Chara’s definitely right about this. “It at least sounded like she wanted to come clean about it?” you offer. You don’t  _ want _ to think ill of the doctor; she seems nice enough, if painfully shy and anxious. You’d like to think she has good intentions.

“That doesn’t matter,” Chara growls. “She’s the royal scientist, and she’s been keeping a secret like this from  _ me_.”

Apparently reinvigorated by their anger, Chara begins to explore the rest of the room, and you’re pulled along once more. Other than more beds and potted plants, you discover another screen on the wall, and two more dark hallways. 

Before the two of you are close enough to read the words, you stop, holding Chara back. They look over their shoulder to frown at you, but their expression softens when they see you. You wonder what your own face must look like right now, for them to react that way. “Hey,” you whisper. “We can still go back. We can make Dr. Alphys tell us what all this means, instead of…”

They shake their head. “I can’t trust her to tell me the truth. Not anymore,” they say. “I need to see everything down here, first. Then I’ll listen to her.”

You nod, but your hesitation must still show on your face, because they give your hand another squeeze. “I’ll be fine,” they promise. “I’m sorry you’ve had to see me like this.”

“It’s okay,” you tell them. They study you for another moment, before they turn back to the screen. As one, the two of you step forward to read it.

> Lab report 19  
>  It’s working? I don’t know why it took so long, but all the monsters who fell down opened their eyes today. A bunch of them have already gotten out of bed. We’ve asked them to stay for observation, but we should be able to let them go back to their homes tomorrow. Frisk will be so happy when I tell them the news!

Chara looks back into the room, over the silhouettes of the beds that you can barely make out in the dim lighting. They shake their head, and the two of you wordlessly decide to go through the hallway closest to you.

You come to a fork in the hall very shortly. The decision is made for you; to your left, there are two more monitors, and so you both turn to read them. Your guts are twisting with worry, a mounting tension climbing up your spine, the increasing knowledge that this is a bad decision, even as you focus to read the bright words against the dark background.

> Lab report 22  
>  Frisk has been knocking at the door for the past 14 hours. They stopped ten minutes ago, so I looked at the camera feed… they fell asleep on the ground outside the door. I don’t think they’ve eaten this whole time, either.  
>  What am I supposed to tell them? 

> Lab Report 24  
>  I can't take this. Frisk left for the ruins. They took the… the amalgamate that their mother is part of, with them. They said some awful things, about what they'd do if I told anyone the truth… I know they’re just lashing out because they’re upset, but… 

Chara draws their lip over their fangs in distaste. “Of course,” they sneer, and turn to continue down the hall without another word. 

The hallway is long, and the two of you are silent as you walk together. You reach a door on your right, and Chara peeks in, but shakes their head, which you assume means there are no monitors to be found that way. The two of you continue on.

When the hallway at last opens to another room, you both come to a stop together, taking in the sight that meets you. You suppose this is the kind of thing you would have expected, if you’d thought about a magical monster’s science laboratory. The machine is enormous, taking up the entire room; its curved edges, lit by Chara’s flickering magic, form a sinister shape in the dark.

You don’t like it. 

To your left, it looks like you could continue around the machine. To your right is a door to another room, and, not wanting to stay in this room longer than necessary, you nudge Chara to the right. They let you take the lead.

The two of you enter a smaller room, firelight flickering over bookshelves against the wall facing you, and, in the left corner, another screen. You don’t rush, as you walk over to it. Several lines of text appear as the monitor flickers on, and you brace yourself. Next to you, you can hear Chara inhale as, doubtless, they prepare themself as well. 

> Lab Report 25  
>  I hate having to keep secrets like this, but it's not like I haven't already been lying to everyone for years. I wanted to tell Frisk and Chara the truth a long time ago, but I waited too long for the right moment…. Now I'm terrified of what they'll do when they find out what I’ve kept from them.

Chara exhales a shaky laugh. “It’s almost disappointing,” they say, when you look at them. “We already know she’s lying. Of course she’s afraid of being held accountable for her actions.”

You look back to the text. Wanting to act, but being too scared, even when you know it’s the right thing to do…

You decide not to tell Chara that you’re a little more sympathetic to Dr. Alphys than they are. 

You turn to leave, but the firelight passes over a pile of tape cassettes on the floor next to the bookshelf. You only know what they are because your mom keeps a bunch of books on tape that she got when she was younger, and she likes to listen to them when she cooks, sometimes. You bend a little closer to look, and—yup, there’s the cassette player, too. 

There’s a note taped to the top. You can’t help but read it, but as you take in the words, you go still. Chara, noting that you’re no longer moving, doubles back. They look for what’s grabbed your attention, and you hear them suck in a breath.

The script is neat and bold; there’s no question that the paper reads, ‘For our future children.’

“There’s no way,” Chara whispers. You squat down to sit on your heels, your knees to your chest, and you push the button to open the player. You select the cassette from the top of the pile; it slides in with a satisfying click. “There’s no reason to think these are for—there was only supposed to be one of us,” they insist. “If it says ‘children,’ it’s for someone else.”

You pause, with your finger on the play button. Twisting around a little, you’re able to raise your head to look at them. They inhale so deeply you see their chest expand, close their eyes, and nod. You hardly have to press down at all, the button easily sinking under your finger.

“It’s recording!” The voice that you hear sounds almost like your mom, but tired and stretched out, even over the distortion of the tape. “Come on, dear, like we practiced.”

“Is this really all we’ll be able to leave them?” The second voice is not as deep as your dad’s, but it sounds like it might have been, once. What you hear in the recording, though, is quiet, raspy, and makes you think of a straw with a hole in it. “Some photographs and our voices, recorded on a machine that humans threw away?”

“Dear…”

“I know. I’m sorry. Can we start the recording over?”

“Of course we can. And, this is only a last resort!” Even you can pick up on the forced tone to this person’s optimism. “The Royal Scientist says they’ve been making a lot of progress! We just have to hold out a little longer. We won’t let this curse get the best of us.” You can hear the speaker take a deep breath. When they start again, their voice is thick, and in this recorded monster’s words, you recognize your own attempts to talk through your tears. “We’ll see them, with our own eyes. We’ll feel their fur with our own hands. We’ll watch their horns come in, and teach them how to use their magic.”

Chara is squeezing your hand, your fingers held painfully tight. You don’t try to pull away.

The second voice speaks again. “I hope so.” You can hear the other still sniffling. “I want to meet them. Chara and Frisk…”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. It’s not from the recording, and it’s not from right next to you.

The two of you look over your shoulders. At the doorway, Frisk and Alphys are looking into the room. Frisk’s mouth hangs open, and their claws grip the doorframe. Next to them, Alphys’s eyes are wide, and her hands are raised to cover her mouth. 

“I’m s-so s-sorry,” she gasps, muffled. “I-I kept meaning to tell you, b-but t-there w-w-wasn’t—”

Chara jerks forward, dragging you up with them. “How dare you keep this from us,” they snarl. “We’ve never even gotten to speak to the king and queen, and this—this was meant for us!”

“I-I didn’t w-wat to,” Alphys stammers, hunching in on herself. “I c-couldn’t—y-you weren’t supposed to—”

“Weren’t supposed to find out?” Chara demands. Their flames, still hovering before you, spit and flare, no longer steady guiding lights, wild under Chara’s fury. “Why? Why would you have kept this from us?”

Frisk turns to look at Alphys, letting their hand drop from the wall. “They knew,” comes their quiet voice, and Chara goes still. “The king and queen. They knew there would be two of us. No.” They shake their head, and then reach up, tugging at their ear. “They  _ planned _ for there to be two of us. They…”

It’s Chara who picks up where Frisk has trailed off. “They  _ wanted _ both of us,” they whisper, disbelief robbing them of their voice. “Why would they—how could they? They had to have known, so why—?”

“T-There’s—it’s n-not like t-that,” Alphys rushes to say, waving her hands frantically. “I-I can e-explain—”

Frisk’s growl cuts her off, and she stumbles back, out of the doorframe and into the room with the enormous machine. “Why should we believe you?” they snarl, advancing toward her. Chara rushes to the door, but they don’t have to drag you; you’ve already darted forward to grab Frisk’s wrist with your free hand. They go still under your touch, but their growl doesn’t cease. 

“I-I know I s-should have told you a, a long time ago,” Alphys says, wringing her hands. “B-But w-we didn’t think it w-was—the k-king and q-queen didn’t w-want anyone to k-k-know… It w-was supposed to be d-different…” 

“All this talk of ‘supposed to be,’ and ‘should have,’” Chara sneers—or tries to, but with each word they say, the more their disdain fades, replaced by despair falling into their voice. “All this time, I’ve held onto the hope that if I can endure, if I can hang on a little longer, it will be worth it in the end. And now you’re telling me that what I have gone through wasn’t even supposed to happen?” That hysterical edge of laugher has returned, and they don’t squeeze back when you squeeze their hand. 

“You’re telling us everything we’ve done has been pointless,” Frisk growls. A shriek of laughter tears out of Chara at this. You flinch back. 

“I-I,” Alphys stammers, and can’t manage to get another sound past her moving lips.

“I refuse,” Chara hisses. And then, louder, “I won’t accept that what I went through was for nothing. I  _ can’t._”

They and Frisk share a look, and then, as one, they push past Alphys and down the hall you came from, dragging you stumbling behind them. “Wait!” Alphys cries after you; you can hear the slap of her bare, scaled feet on the tiled floor as she tries to give chase. Frisk and Chara don’t slow down, even with you tripping after them; Frisk grabs the hand that Chara isn’t holding and pulls you along. Alphys yells again, “Please, wait! Frisk! Chara!”

The two boss monsters don’t respond, racing through the long hall, ignoring the monitors that light up once more as you pass. You dart through the room with the beds, through the room with the vending machine, and the sound of Alphys’s yells grows fainter, as more distance is put between you, and she grows more winded. You’re dragged down that first hall, around the corner and into the elevator landing room, where Frisk hurries forward and rapidly presses at the button to open the door. 

Faintly, you can still hear Alphys’s voice. “Just listen! You don’t have to k—”

The elevator door slides open, the sound rendering Alphys’s next words unintelligible. As Chara and Frisk pull you onto the elevator, you hear her shout, “Nobody has to die!”

You stare at the elevator door as it slides shut. Even if the door didn’t block out the sound from the basement lab, the noise of the elevator in motion would surely cover up any more yells. Your heartbeat pounds in your temples; your heavy breaths echo in your ears. Frisk and Chara, too, are panting, and Chara leans against one wall of the elevator, sucking in deep breaths. Frisk is tugging again at their ear with their free hand, mussing up the short furs at the end of it. 

You don’t look at either of them as you ask, whispering still, “What did she mean?”

“Who cares,” snarls Chara, straightening up. “She’s told us enough lies to last a lifetime.” They bark out a laugh, then, a smile twisting across their face. “Literally! Our whole lives!” They crack up again, once more falling to lean on the wall as they shake with laughter. Their free hand comes up to cover their face, obscuring their warped grin from sight.

“But she—she said nobody has to die,” you press. Chara, still giggling, doesn’t answer; you turn your gaze to Frisk, who looks at you with no emotion visible on their face.

“Even boss monsters can die,” they say. “I begged her to try to save monsters who had fallen down, because one of them was my mom.” It’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard from Frisk. They breathe deeply and slowly, and then they say, “I shouldn’t have.”

You shiver. With both of your hands occupied, you can’t hug yourself, but you’ll be out in the hot caverns again soon enough, you figure.

“You still have your mom, don’t you, Asriel?” Chara asks, once more standing up. Their hand drops, and their smile is still far too large. “What’s it like?”

The elevator door opens. Before you can answer—and where do you even begin?  _ How _ do you answer something like that, without just rubbing in Chara’s face what you have that they don’t?—Frisk drags you out into the lab. “Have to hurry,” they say. “Alphys will call Undyne. Try to stop us from reaching the barrier.”

“What?” you yelp. “Why would she do that?”

“Why did she keep so many other secrets?” Chara shrugs, even as they and Frisk move brusquely through the lab with you. “I don’t care. She won’t stop us. Not now, when we’re so close.”

The door to the lab opens before you, and the three of you stand at the threshold, the sweltering cave waiting outside. Frisk turns to look at both you and Chara, and you think you see their eyebrows furrow, the corners of their mouth pull down—but in the next moment, their mouth is a flat line, their face as emotive as a stone wall. Chara huffs out a deep breath.

“We can’t go back,” they say, but there’s something hesitant in their voice. “This is really it.”

“What is?” you ask. None of this makes sense—why Alphys would want to prevent you from leaving, why Chara and Frisk are now nervous about it, as though there’s something else riding on you getting home. “You’re still taking me to the barrier, right?”

Chara laughs again, small giggles that bubble out of them, even as they put a hand over their mouth to keep themself quiet. 

“Yeah,” Frisk says. Their voice is rough with something that sounds an awful lot like regret.

You don’t know if they’re replying to you, or to Chara.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: some of the lab report wording is taken directly from the game, or follows the format very closely.


End file.
